Whim
by Astra H. Lowelle
Summary: Ciel gets a fever, which he vehemently denies, but grudgingly allows his faithful butler to minister to him, though his stubbornness weakens as he himself does.
1. The Butler, Concerned

Sebastian knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into his master's room, pushing the tea-cart in front of him. He had made an elaborate omelet and toast and tea and fresh strawberries and cream for the earl's breakfast, but it didn't look like the earl was going to be able to eat any of it.

"My lord," he said gently, placing a hand on Ciel's back. "Are you feeling all right?"

With a soft moan, Ciel stiffened slightly and rolled over. His face was very pale, save for the two blotches of red high on his cheeks, and sweat was beading down his forehead. His voice, upon speaking, was a dry whisper.

"I... I'm fine. Don't just stand there, bring me my tea. I have a lot to do today."

Ciel struggled momentarily to sit up, found he couldn't muster the energy to do so, redoubled his efforts, and found a white-gloved hand planted in the middle of his chest, gently but firmly preventing him from rising again.

"Not today, young master," Sebastian smiled. He did not often get to exert control over his contractor, and it was always a pleasure to do so. "Unless I am very much mistaken- and I do not believe I am- you are in possession of a fever and will not be able to do any work today."

"You _are_ mistaken," Ciel scowled, trying fruitlessly to remove the demon's hand. "I am perfectly fine and will not waste a full day of work simply because _you_ have decided that I have a fever."

With his free hand, Sebastian dabbed his handkerchief at the earl's forehead. "One does not usually sweat to this profusion in the morning, my lord."

Ciel's thin frame trembled a moment. "Sebastian, I command you to take your hand off of me this instant!"

The butler obeyed instantly. Ciel still couldn't muster the energy to sit up. He lay back, coughing softly and breathing hard. Sebastian hovered over him, looking very concerned. "My lord, I really think you would be wise to rest today. I can call Fitzwilliam Parker and reschedule your meeting, if you wish."

Ciel moaned again, then grimaced and re-gained his customary icy control. "Nooo... No, don't do that. I said I'm fine."

Sebastian plucked off his glove, revealing his black fingernails, and lightly pressed his knuckles to his master's forehead. "Young master, you are indeed feverish, and I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave _your bed today."_

_"Sebastian!"_ Ciel glared at his butler with both eyes flashing. "I command you to get me dressed and prepare me for the day!"

Sebastian frowned, but helped his contractor to sit up. "Very well, sir. But if your fever escalates-"

"It won't, because I don't have a fever!"

Sebastian did not respond to that. He silently served his master breakfast, which Ciel only managed two bites of, and nearly dropped his teacup because of its heat. Sweat sheened on his forehead; he could barely sit straight without slumping. He did finish the chilled cream and strawberries.

Sebastian took the dishes and laid them back on the cart. "Young master, you've barely eaten."

"I'm not hungry!"

"A classic symptom of fev-"

"Don't," Ciel warned.


	2. The Butler, Compliant

Sebastian subsided into silence as he went to get the earl's clothes. It was chilly outside, necessitating warm dress, and Ciel became increasingly more uncomfortable as Sebastian dressed him in layer after layer of fine clothing, and tied on his eye patch. At the end of it all, Ciel felt like he was going to faint with the heat, but he absolutely refused to give Sebastian the satisfaction of admitting he was right.

"You have your fencing lesson in twenty minutes, sir," Sebastian told him, following him out the door and into the hallway. "With dancing after that- a very active morning indeed- and then French and the meeting after lunch. My lord, whatever is the matter?"

For Ciel had whimpered softly, swayed on the spot, and crumpled to the floor. Sebastian was beside him in an instant, bending over to intercept him before he hit the floor. "My lord!"

Ciel's head flopped slightly as he tried to stop tears from coming to his eyes. He felt so _awful _and hot and uncomfortable; there was no way he would be able to make it through fencing and dancing. Even lying on the floor would be better than that.

"My lord?" Sebastian asked softly. "Would you rather return to bed?"

He wouldn't prove Sebastian right. He _wouldn't._

"No..." his voice was unconvincing even to his own ears. "I just... tripped... Help me up."

Sebastian slipped a hand behind Ciel's shoulders. "My lord, you are in no condition for fencing. I must insist you return to bed."

Ciel whimpered again as a wave of nausea flooded over him. His clothes were stifling, everything was burning, he could hardly breathe-

He _wouldn't_ prove Sebastian right.

*§*

The young master was proving him more and more right with every passing second.

Sebastian smiled as he scooped the feverish little earl into his arms. Ciel didn't resist him- or perhaps he simply couldn't. Putting all those extra (and somewhat unnecessary) layers onto the little lord had been a good idea.

"'m fine," Ciel protested weakly. Sebastian allowed the trace of a smile to curl his lips, and said nothing.

The walk back to the master's bedroom wasn't a very long one, but Sebastian enjoyed every second of it. ]Ciel was no longer protesting; indeed, he was quite limp, eyes closed and face flushed.

"Now, let's have all these layers off of you, shall we?" Sebastian pushed open the door to the master bedroom and gently laid Ciel on the bed. "My, my, you certainly are warm."

Ciel didn't say anything, but a ghost of relief flitted over his face as Sebastian unwrapped him. Cool fingers briefly touched his forehead, there was a murmur of 'oh, dear", and then Sebastian put his glove back on and helped Ciel into a nightshirt and tucked him into bed.

"I shall remove your eye patch momentarily, sir," Sebastian told him. "Please try to rest while I make some arrangements."

Far past caring and half-asleep already, Ciel turned his burning forehead against the pillow and fell into a fevered drowse.


	3. The Butler, Delegating

The first thing Sebastian did was go downstairs and, after catching about a dozen china plates and Mey-Rin from the air, inform Ciel's fencing and dancing instructors that their pupil was unfortunately indisposed, and see them to the door. A quick phone call to Fitzwilliam Parker canceled the aforementioned appointment, the other tutors were notified of the young master's condition, and Bard was told to make soup "without your flame thrower; I'm afraid I have neither time nor patience for your antics today."

"The young master's ill?" Bard asked in surprise. "Huh, he seemed all right yesterday. Poor little mite. Righto, soup it is."

"The young master? Ill?" Mey-Rin squeaked when Sebastian asked her to bring fresh sheets and some clean washcloths. "Oh heavens, poor young master, oh yes, I'll be there in a twinkle, I will!"

"Young master's ill?" Finny asked anxiously when Sebastian told him to bring a basin of cool water and eucalyptus oil upstairs. "Oh dear, I hope he gets better quickly, I'll be right away!"

After telephoning one Doctor Watt Johnson and making a few other arrangements, Sebastian headed back upstairs to find all three servants standing eagerly in front of the master bedroom's closed doors, each carrying their assignments.

"We're ready, Mister Sebastian!" they chorused happily.

Sebastian gave them each a quick once-over to insure they indeed were, and quietly opened the door to the bedroom and entered.

Ciel was still in bed, completely flaccid, his breath coming in soft, irregular panting coughs. Sebastian put out a hand to assess his temperature again.

"Dear me," he said softly. "My lord, can you hear me?"

Ciel moaned, opened an eye, and shut it again. "S'bas'n... 'm so hot..."

Sebastian gestured across the room to the open door and waved the servants in. "Yes, sir. Please lie back now. I have called Dr. Johnson and expect him to arrive shortly."

Ciel whimpered softly. He looked at his butler in helpless plea, willing him to ease his predicament somehow. Sebastian took one of Mey-Rin's cloths, dipped it into Finny's water and eucalyptus oil, and began stroking Ciel's forehead.

Ciel gave a faint mewl of mingled pleasure and relief, sounding almost cat-like to Sebastian, who indulged himself in a trace of a smile as he undid a few buttons of his master's collar and laid a cool, wet cloth over his neck.

The servants looked on in awe.

"Put your things down and get back to work," Sebastian told them in a low voice. "Finny, you will wait for Dr. Johnson and send him up here when he arrives. Bard, ensure the soup does not boil over."

"And what'll I do, Mister Sebastian?" Mey-Rin squeaked. Ciel stirred, and Sebastian turned quickly back to him, murmuring to the maid, "As you were. Dismissed, all of you, now."

The three were gone in a trice, leaving master and butler alone together again. Sebastian undid Ciel's cuffs and wrapped a wet cloth around each of the thin wrists, then undid a few more buttons and draped another wet cloth over his master's too-warm chest."I do hope this will ease you somewhat, my lord."

Ciel flinched slightly as the cool fabric made contact with his fevered skin, but relaxed quickly enough. The eucalyptus oil felt wonderful and cool and soothing and he wanted to lie in this drowsy haze and feel the cool wet on his skin and listen to Sebastian's low voice talking as he worked-

"Talk," Ciel mumbled drowsily.

Sebastian's hands, in the process of placing a wet cloth over his master's forehead, paused momentarily. "Pardon me, my lord?"

"Talk to me," the earl commanded dozily.

Sebastian laid a hand over his heart. "Whatever my lord wishes. What shall I talk about?"

"I... tell me about your previous masters."


	4. The Butler, Reminiscing

"Yes, sir." Sebastian hid a smile at Ciel's childish request, then resumed stroking with the wet cloths. Ciel was totally relaxed now, small body limp on the bed, eyes closed as his butler treated him. He didn't look happy, exactly, but he seemed calm enough.

"I recall long ago I had a master who wanted a palace," Sebastian related. He kept his voice low and smooth; perhaps he could lull the young master to sleep and ease some discomfort. "I obliged him, of course, and then he ordered me inside to work on the décor. He was a swine farmer and had a garish sense of style. It was one of my more enjoyable jobs, in that it was swift. Once the palace was done, I simply took the man's soul- quite nice, but with a gamy flavor- and demolished the eyesore I had made for him.

"Then, years later, there was a woman. Very well-to-do, but with a score to settle against her unfaithful lover. Until we found him, I was to serve as her fiancé- probably to make him jealous. I daresay I did a fine job. We were the jewels of the season. She dragged me to party after party; dinner after dinner; dance after dance. She had truly begun to fall in love with me when we ran into her lover at a costume ball. But by that time, she had no further desire for revenge- but a contract is a contract.

"My next master was a truly odious old man who- my lord, are you all right?"

For Ciel had begun to cough again, eyes flying open and tears beginning to gather at their corners. Sebastian raised him into a half-sitting position and tried to give him some water, but Ciel spluttered on it, nearly choked, and began crying in earnest.

"Sebastian... everything is burning and burning... I don't like it..."

"My lord-"

"I don't liiiii_iiiiike_ it... S'bas- M- Mother? I don't feel good... where's Mummy? Mummy? _Mummy!_"

Ciel began to cry even harder.

"Now, now," Sebastian soothed, rubbing gently at his delirious charge's back. He began dabbing at the streaming eyes with a wet cloth. "There's nothing to cry about. Earls must be strong, mustn't they? There... there."

He managed to get some water into Ciel's mouth and let the limp body back onto the bed, tucking him in tightly with the blankets until the moment of delirium passed. "Very good, my lord. How do you feel now?"

"I... I'm hot... talk again."

The butler replaced the wet cloths again, smoothed the damp bangs from the flushed forehead, and tapped a finger to his chin. "Where was I now? Ah, yes, the odious man. His name was Corroway. He wanted to be king of his own country. I obliged him, of course, and his stint as ruler was short, in that he was assassinated two weeks into his reign. I did nothing to stop this as that was not part of our contract; all he wanted was to be king. In fact, once I had made him king, he ordered me to leave and never return. Foolish man."

There was a light knocking on the door.


	5. The Butler, Standing By

"Please excuse me a moment, my lord," Sebastian said, then noted with some measure of amusement that Ciel had fallen asleep. With light, quick strides, the butler crossed the room and opened the door to reveal Finny and a short, slightly rounded man with neat grey hair, a kindly look, and a doctor's bag.

"Dr. Johnson's here, Mister Sebastian," Finny whispered, somewhat unnecessarily. Sebastian inclined his head gestured the doctor into the room, closing the door quietly behind them both as Finny scampered off. Ciel stirred faintly.

"Zo here is my patient?" Dr. Johnson set his bag down beside the bed and peered short-sightedly at the sleepy child. "Goodnez me, I did not expect zuch a very young Earl Phantomhive. Well then, age or not, he muzt be treated- yez, indeed, Mr. Michaeliz, you were correct, he doez have fever- good of you to zpot and addrez it. Do I zmell eucalyptuz? Oh well done indeed. I zo often have bungling caretakerz to deal with when coming to treat young patientz."

He was peeling back the cloths as he spoke, examining a drowsy Ciel carefully and efficiently. "Hmm. Dehydrated and worn-out, but otherwize nothing terribly zeriouz- nothing that can't be fixed with plenty of fluidz and rezt, and your continued vigilanze and care, Mr. Michaeliz. I darezay you are quite devoted to your charge."

Sebastian gave him a shallow bow, lowering his eyelids. "You are generous, Dr. Johnson. Will that be all?"

The doctor frowned thoughtfully as he pulled a small bottle out of his bag and poured some dark, viscous liquid out into a teaspoon. "Yez, though I recommend that he rezt in bed and drink often for the remainder of the day and all of tomorrow-" he eased the spoon into Ciel's mouth and had him swallow the liquid- "Continue to apply the clothz, but ensure the room remainz warm. A rapid change of temperature would do him little good."

He finished packing his kit back into his bag and nodded to Sebastian. "Shall I show myzelf out, Mr. Michaeliz?"

"That will not be necessary," Sebastian assured him. "I will have a servant escort you out. Thank you, doctor."

"Of courze, of courze," Dr. Johnson replied cheerily, heading for the door. "Do not hezitate to call should the earl'z condition change."

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and then receding footsteps, and then silence again. Wondering vaguely what the servants were doing, and then deciding he'd deal with it later, Sebastian replaced the wet cloths for Ciel and laid a thin blanket over him. "May I give you something to drink, my lord?"

Ciel's eyelids fluttered, but he was too drowsy to do much more, so Sebastian gave him a drink anyway and managed to get a bit of Bard's soup into him too before Ciel fell asleep again, one hand closed lightly over the blanket and holding it to his left cheek.

"Sleep well, my young master," Sebastian murmured, allowing a full smile to curl his mouth as he took up post at the side of the earl's bed. Who would have thought- Earl Ciel Phantomhive, the cold and calculating Guard Dog for the Queen, sleeping the soft, innocent, fluttery sleep of a sick child.

How very amusing this all was.

Of course, the master might be cranky or irritable when he awoke, but for now, Sebastian was content to watch and wait. Besides, the butler was quite used to cranky.


	6. The Butler, Ministering

As it happened, Ciel was too tired to be cranky when he woke up from his short nap. He mumbled something about wanting a drink, which Sebastian immediately obliged him with, and then he fell asleep again, this time for about five minutes before waking again and whimpering faintly that he was _hot_ and _sticky_ and then some unintelligible syllables that Sebastian did his best to rectify by rinsing him down with the eucalyptus water, changing his nightshirt, and then giving him a long, cool drink and turning him over and massaging his shoulders and back until he fell asleep again.

Around six, Sebastian gently shook Ciel awake and fed him the soup Bard had made. Ciel ate slowly, eyelids drooping, and only protested a little when Sebastian felt his forehead.

"You appear to be doing much better, my lord," he noted. "Would you like me to take you to the window for a bit of fresh air?"

Ciel nodded, eyes half closed. His temperature had gone down; not considerably, but it had gone down, and he had clearly not slept off all of the medicine Dr. Johnson had given him.

Sebastian picked him up and carried him to the window, which he opened with a flick of his wrist, and cool air wafted into the warm room. Ciel shivered slightly.

"I apologize, my lord." Sebastian immediately shut the window. "I should have bundled you up first. Is there anything you would like to eat or drink?"

Ciel dropped his head onto the butler's chest, snuffling softly. His hair was mussed, his forehead still damp from the wet cloths, and when Sebastian tried to put him down on the bed, the boy startled and clutched frantically at the butler's coat.

"My, my," Sebastian chuckled to himself as he placed his gloved hands onto Ciel's and eased him down under the heavy blanket. "What an affectionate young master I have."

Ciel looked up at him, eyes sliding very slowly shut even as he fought to keep them open. "S'bas'n... don' go. Stay with me...?"

Sebastian placed a hand on his heart. "Of course, my lord. I shall with you until the very end. After all, if I did not, what-"

Ciel's grip eased away, a placid smile blooming softly on his lips as he finished the sentence. "-what kind of butler would... you be..."

The last word's exhale wisped away as a small, almost gentle smile silvered over the butler's mouth.

White gloves were adjusted, the curtains were drawn silently across the window to sweep the room into darkness, and a tall figure returned to the bedside of his master, a vigil while the child slept.


End file.
